


i'll make sure you're coming with me.

by theyregazebos



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, F/M, M/M, Multi, domestic losers is one of my favourite things idk how i managed it with this but somehow it's there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyregazebos/pseuds/theyregazebos
Summary: Everybody remembered where they were when the world fell to shit. Eddie Kaspbrak was studying for an exam, Richie Tozier was smoking weed with Beverly Marsh behind the English building, Ben Hanscom was on the track field, Stanley Uris was laughing as he watched Mike Hanlon and Bill Denborough arm wrestle. It took them all of ten minutes to find each other on campus and they were terrified, but they were together.or the zombie apocalypse/college au that literally nobody asked for
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start this by saying I have wanted to branch into writing about IT for a long time and this was ..... an experience to write. It took me a while to psych myself up to do and then I came up with this, so uh ? Anyway, I don't know if there is anything like this out there because I truly did not search for it, I was too worried about making myself not write this, so I stayed away from delving too deep. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Nobody really knew how it all started. It truly felt as though everything was fine one minute and the next people were dying. In hindsight, that was sort of how the world always was. This was different, though. People didn't just die, they came back. They killed other people. People watched their family members and closest friends turn into one of those things and they had a choice to make. They either put them down before they had the chance to kill them or they got scared and died being too scared to protect themselves. And hell, nobody could blame any of them that succumbed to their fears. Who wasn't scared of something like this? Some people thrived in this environment, that was eerily true. Thankfully, none of them had been one of those people, each time they had to hurt somebody, it was gruesome and they were ashamed. The thing was, this was the end of the world. They couldn't be the people they once were. Everybody had to change and it was harder for some than others.

Eddie Kaspbrak for example, struggled a lot. Since Richie had placed a baseball bat into his shaking hands and told him to 'swing straight', he had been struggling. He did a lot better than he would ever have expected, but Christ, was it hard. It wasn't until he had frozen and one of the others had almost been killed that it was drummed into him how truly real this was. This was happening. The lives they had once led was gone, dead and buried, unlike their assailants. Eddie had to man up (as much as he despised the phrase) and be brave. He remembered Richie had placed his hands on his shoulders and told him that he was braver than he thought. Perhaps that was true. There was no way he could be any less brave than he thought he was, that was for sure. Each day was a struggle, but Eddie felt stronger and braver as each one passed. He knew he would have been dead long ago had he not been with his friends (his family, truthfully) since the beginning. They kept each other strong, level, balanced. He hated the idea of any of them not surviving through this, but he knew that if even one of them had been gone, none of them would be here now. None of them would have made it one minute through it, let alone one month.

The group often found themselves holding up inside abandoned buildings, making it their home for the night. They whispered about finding a real home one day, but that seemed unlikely with the houses they passed each day. Doors bashed in, windows shattered. Nothing seemed safe. Hell, they could make anywhere safe, Eddie was sure of that, but it didn't do much to settle the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of his stomach when he thought about them staying in one of those houses for a night. Scavenging inside of them was bad enough, he was always scared that someone (something) was going to jump out at them and end things once and for all. He tried to remain calm and cool like Bill or Mike or Richie. He figured they probably worried about those same things, but they were a lot better about hiding it. Eddie wished he was as good at hiding his feelings as the others. He wore his heart on his sleeve and alongside it sat his anger.

Anger could be a good emotion during these trying times, though. Whenever Eddie was the nearest to a zombie, he would allow himself a few too many whacks with the bat to release a little extra pent up energy he knew could very easily turn into anger if he wasn't careful. If the others noticed, they never said a word. Except for Richie, but he could never help himself when it came to teasing Eddie. Especially if it had something to do with hygiene.

"I heard club soda gets blood out of clothes."

"Shut up, Richie."

"Oh, come on, Eds. I'm sure we can look real hard and find some for you to clean our clothes with."

The glare he was sent was enough to make Richie laugh and he wrapped an arm around Eddie's shoulders. A bloodstained hand lifted to ruffle Eddie's hair and he groaned in disgust but made no move to get away. It was pointless, Richie would run after him until he was finally given the opportunity to slide his dirty fingers through Eddie's hair and make him whine. Beverly was always the first to stand up for him, though that usually ended with Richie tugging at her hair and leaving her hair a much darker shade of red. Though, she never usually minded. They were all grimy and disgusting and there was no use being fussy about staying clean because there was never a damn chance to get clean. It had taken Eddie a while to get used to that, but they had helped him through panic attacks until he was here, wedged under Richie's arm, blood on his shirt, hands, in his hair. He was almost content, in a weird way. This was their new normal, so he might as well get used to it, right?

It was almost easy to forget how young they were when they had to survive like this. They were nineteen now, still children by some standards and they were killing to survive on a daily basis. It was really fucking easy to forget that because they had to grow up so fast. Truthfully, they still acted like children on occasion, mostly when Richie was tired of them acting so old. He was their comic relief and it was nothing short of amazing that he was so quick to crack a joke when one of them looked on the verge of tears. God, anything to stop a group crying session. After their last one and nearly getting killed because of it, they were all equally terrified of their emotions no longer being in check. So, if the only way to stop the onslaught of tears is for Richie to make a dick joke or talk about having fucked Eddie’s mom, then he would do that. Even if it meant Eddie smacked his arm and told him to shut the fuck up. Comic relief was desperately necessary in this dead world they now lived in.

Sure, Richie was always amazing at being the comic relief for their group which had formed so easily at the start of college. Living in a co-ed dorm was never something any of them had initially dreamed for, but it turned out to be the best decision they ever made. A group was quickly formed between their rooms, Ben and Mike opposite Bill and Richie with Stan and Eddie opposite Bev (who had a boring yet stuck up girl for her roommate who lasted three months before she quit her studies). A study group with people that weren’t actually in your lectures didn’t sound like a good idea (and Eddie voiced that opinion every single time they met up), but they were actually pretty good at motivating each other. Sure, Richie was loud and Bev and Stan spent half their time telling him to shut up because she was cramming for an exam and Bill just shook his head with a knowing smile. Ben and Mike had to sit on either side of Richie to keep him tame and stop him from pulling at Eddie’s hair, but they were so fucking good together and they always came back to the group each week, so it said something about their work ethic. They were a good, tight-knit group and nobody said shit to them because honestly? Nobody gave a shit. It wasn’t like their time during middle school, being bullied for the way they looked or acted or how they were raised. They were older and wiser and looked for people who had spent their formative years in much the same way, looking to protect themselves and each other at the same time.

They fit together so easily, it was like they had been made for this, to be friends and help each other survive college. They all, at some point or another, considered what it would have been like to grow up with each other. Maybe they would have been picked on less or they would have just been a little fucking happier growing up. They mostly settled on the latter since they likely would have been picked on more if they had somebody to stand up for them, somebody to fight for. The most they had to stand up for one another now was from the teasing of their own friendship group. They just tore each other to pieces when they felt like having fun, laughing at each other's misfortunes, because it was easier than admitting to each other (or themselves) that it actually hurt. Sometimes that was their biggest problem, not knowing when to be sincere. Laughter was the best medicine, but sometimes they needed to tell their friends what the fuck was happening in their heads, because how could one person deal with so much trauma?

It turned out to be a good thing that they were so bad at dealing with their shit. Sure, they would sometimes explode and be rash, make stupid decisions that could get somebody killed, but there were always six other people there to help them, bring them back from the edge. The last time Bev had exploded, she had almost had a chunk of her leg taken out by a zombie cut in half at the waist, scrambling along the floor to get to her. Mike had smashed its skull in with a bat, long enough that Bill tugged at his elbow once he started to lose steam. They were dealing with far more than any nineteen years old should have had to and they were bound to need to scream and cry about it at some point. They were all just really shit at picking their timing. They all had their go-to person, too, even if they did speak to each other about their feelings a lot. Stan gravitated towards Bill often, where Bill would turn toward Mike, who would turn toward Bev, who turned toward Ben. Ben confessed many of his worries to Bev in return. Richie and Eddie kept to themselves, whispering their fears in the night, hoping that by morning, they had been carried off by the wind and were unable to be seen or felt. That hadn’t worked out for them so far, but they still tried.

“Beans? Again?”

“Richie.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Still. There’s too much of a good thing, you know,” he mused, to nobody in particular.

Mike snorted and extended his leg to poke his toes into his thigh. “Just shut up and eat your beans, Trashmouth.”

Eyes rolled, but he did as he was told, pressing his shoulder against Eddie’s and shovelling food into his mouth, the fire crackling quietly in the midst of their circle. They had found an abandoned factory, scouted it for two hours before they were convinced it was safe enough. Barricades prevented anybody (or thing) from entering through any door and they had taken refuge on the third floor, barricading the door to the stairwell and confining themselves to what seemed to have once been a meeting room. The room was large enough for them to sleep in, though they had slept in rooms that would have barely housed a single bed at one point, just to get some rest and feel safe. Stan had found some dark material scattered around the floor and they used it to cover the windows, keep the light hidden whilst they ate and warmed themselves up. Ben had seen enough horror movies to know how that one ended and insisted upon covering their tracks as well as they possibly could before they did anything to settle in for their night. Besides, rooms with windows were good, so they could take a peek at the world below them, make sure nobody was going to try and sneak up on them whilst they slept.

Ben wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and glanced around the circle. “Who’s taking the first watch tonight?”

“I’ll take it, I’m not tired anyway.”

“Should we do it in pairs again?”

“Yeah, I was thinking Stan could join me and then Richie and Eddie, then you and Bev and then I’ll be ready to take some time with Mike.”

The six of them watched Bill as he spoke, slow and steady, almost like he had prepared this in his head for days. None of them were the leader, they had made that clear from day one. They were in this together and they made every decision together. They still had ideas that they bounced off one another from time to time and Bill was usually the voice to each one. They trusted one another wholly, unable to survive this long without that insane level of trust they shared. Eddie nodded and Richie just shrugged and then, with a mouth full of food, “yeah, I’ll help Eds out with keeping watch over you fuckers.” It was worth the dig to the ribs he received.

Ben gave a sheepish look to Bev who nodded and wiped some sauce from the corner of her mouth, sucking the remnants from the pad of her thumb. She was a lot quieter these days, but she spent a lot of time drawing in a journal Stan had grabbed for her during a scout. They all had one, Stan had grabbed seven, one for each of them, and asked them very politely to use them. It didn’t matter what they used them for, he just wanted them to get their feelings out somehow, whether it meant by doodling clothes like Bev did or buildings like Ben did. Drawing each of their group as Richie did or scribbling down notes as Bill did. Writing about what each day entailed like Mike did or writing about a dream (or nightmare) like Eddie did. Or writing each of his friends a letter, just in case, as Stan did. They all had their ways of coping and when they didn’t want to talk about it, they used their journals to help take the edge off. They were nowhere near full yet, but Stan always kept an eye out for more, ready to grab them and hand out a fresh one to anybody that wanted to start over, to continue on their coping.

“You know, I know we live in some kind of dystopian shit heap now, but I don’t think there’s anybody else I’d wanna be here with,” Eddie said softly, gaze on the floor as he picked at a thread on Richie’s shirt. It was easier to be brutally honest with them if he didn’t have to look at them. Richie’s fingers were surprisingly delicate as he tugged at Eddie’s hair.

“You can be so sweet sometimes,” he whispered, pressing his fingertips against his scalp, “I agree, actually. God, imagine if I had to survive this shit with my parents.” He made a gagging noise, looking over at the others as they laughed and shook their heads. It was painfully true and it extended to them all. Not a single one of them wanted to survive this life without each other, but with their parents? Christ, they’d rather have died the second it went down if that was their alternative. Anyway, they were all convinced, for varying reasons, that their families had each succumbed to the new world order fairly soon after the news broke. Bill didn’t think about it much, because he didn’t want to live in a world that Georgie was not part of, so he refused to consider the possibility that he was gone. His parents, on the other hand, were likely long gone by now which, again, he declined to think about because if they were gone, there was not much hope for Georgie.

Beverly Marsh could not give a single flying fuck if her father was dead. Her aunt had been ill for about a year before she left for college, so she knew that she was probably gone now. In a way, that brought some peace to her, because she would rather she died peacefully than in any of the horrible ways they had experienced since this had started. Being bitten seemed like it was painful enough already without the knowledge of coming back to life and trying to kill the people you cared for. So, if her aunt was already dead, that was good. She could be undead, sure, but at least she went quickly (or Beverly hoped to whichever God was listening that she had because that woman did not deserve to suffer for anything).

Ben didn’t care to think about his mother no longer being around, but if she wasn’t, he would hold hope in his heart for it being quick and painless. She had never been a bad mother, a little overbearing and a feeder, but that was nothing compared to Eddie’s mother, so Ben knew he was lucky. He only ever wanted to make her proud, so the idea of her being in pain and alone in her last moments filled Ben with more anxiety than he had ever thought possible. In the back of his journal, he would pour out his heart over the pain he felt when he thought about her. It helped and he always gave Stan a small smile and a pat on the arm for having such a good fucking idea with grabbing the journals when he saw them.

Mike’s parents had been dead for a long time and his grandfather passed right out of high school, so he had nobody back home to worry for. In a way, he was almost thankful for the tragedy that surrounded their deaths, because at least they did not have to suffer through the world as it was now. Hell, the world that Mike grew up in was no better and his parents would have hated that. He may not have remembered a lot about them, but he knew they were proud and cared about their family more than anything. Mike had grown the same but he was young, his image had never meant as much to him as it had his father. He could still remember his grandfather telling him about how passionate his father had been on that farm and how he resented the varying other people in town for talking trash about them, for targeting them for being different. Even now, surrounded by the best people Mike would ever know, it filled him with rage.

After the summer that he turned thirteen, Stan’s relationship with his parents had been a little rocky. Swearing in the middle of his Bar Mitzvah speech was nothing short of a tragedy in his father’s eyes, so he was quick to distance himself from him. Sure, he didn’t want them to be dead, but it was hardly like they were calling him every weekend to make sure he was doing okay. They were good parents, they really were, but Stan had disappointed them that day, so they wanted to punish him for it. They just let it run on a little fucking long for Stan to give a shit anymore. He had more respect for men who abandoned their children at birth than for his own father after practically abandoning him for a stupid thing he said at thirteen. Anyway, if they were dead, Stan would never know, so what did it matter? Even if he shed a tear for them when he thought about it for too long and nobody was looking.

Richie supposed his parents were probably dead, though he had always grown up thinking his father was too tough to kill. He was a hard man, always coming down on Richie for one thing or another, but his mother always told him that was how he showed he cared. Richie wasn’t too sure, but what did he know? He was just a kid, after all. Perhaps his mother had been right, that he showed he cared by attempting to bully Richie into doing things he didn’t want to do. It didn’t work, mind, but he still attempted it. Maybe there was a chance his parents were still alive. His father was tough as nails, he would fight to the very end. He was sure his father would die before his mother did, he’d die protecting her. His mother would die then, too, she would not want to go on. Or perhaps she would force herself to carry on because she would worry about Richie being out there somewhere. Oh, who was he kidding? They were dead, just like everybody else’s parents. Long gone, dead and buried. Doubtful, but it was a nice thought.

Eddie’s mother was most certainly dead. Perhaps it was not the dead coming back to life, perhaps it had been her heart, perhaps it had been intruders, scaring her half to death or killing her because she wouldn’t give up the food in her cupboards. Eddie knew that she was dead and it didn’t fill him with as much dread as he always imagined it would. At first, it ruined him and he was terrified of living without her because she was the wall he leaned against. Without it, he felt like he was falling and suffocating. But he had Richie and the others to keep him grounded, so there was something to calm his nerves. All in all, he knew that Sonia Kaspbrak was dead. And he hated how at ease he felt with that knowledge. He felt like a terrible son for being hopeful that she had died, because she would never have survived in such a horrible and disturbing world like this. Perhaps she was hating him in heaven or wherever she had ended up (probably hell) because he had not been with her when she died; he had not been there to try and protect her.

The Losers Club (as they had deemed themselves) were now a group of orphans who had only each other to fill their time and love. It should have been a scarier thought than it was, but they were almost content with the way their lives had turned out. Of course, there was nothing great about living in a world where, in order to survive, you had to push a knife through a zombie’s brain or bash a zombie’s brain in. Actually, scratch that, there was something great about it. Or possibly terrifying, depending on how you looked at it. You had nothing to lose. Apart from your life, of course. You might die tomorrow, so what are you waiting for? If you love somebody, tell them. If you hate somebody, tell them. Don’t survive for the sake of it, find a reason to keep ongoing.

Eddie, knowing this, had still refused to confess his feelings of love or adoration for Richie. He should have, but the idea of being rejected was ridiculously scary and he had killed zombies! God, he hated the idea that Richie would turn him away and then tell him to get lost, leave him somewhere to die. He knew he never would, he knew it with his entire being. And yet, the mere thought of it was so overwhelming, that Eddie refused to even consider the possibility of ever telling Richie the way he felt. He would regret it one day or he would have a true near-death experience (not quite like the ones they sometimes experienced, one where he might be alone and nobody would be there to save him, but he would survive out of sheer refusal to die) and he would tell all of them things he had sworn never to say out loud. Eddie hoped it would be the former, because he would rather live with that regret than find out if Richie felt the same way or would hate him for the rest of his (presumably short) life.

When they slept that night, Bill and Stan had their backs against the wall, the windows above their heads and accessible at any time they heard a noise or wanted to make sure they were still safe. Bev and Ben slept with their backs to one another, baseball bat tight in Ben’s hand, knife tucked underneath Bev’s pillow with her hand clasped around it. Mike slept against the wall, beside Stan so that he could touch his shoulder if he had a nightmare and coax him out of it. Richie and Eddie slept against the far wall, away from the door and close to the windows. Eddie’s back was pressed against Richie’s chest, an arm over his body to keep him close, face pressed into Eddie’s neck. They usually slept pretty soundly, the occasional nightmare would wreck them and whoever was keeping watch would rush to their side, bring them out of their sleep to assure them they were safe, nothing was going to hurt them.

The thing was, that wasn’t true and they all knew it. Terror filled their bones and made them unable to walk some days, the fear wracking through them so roughly, it felt like they had broken every bone in their body. They were surviving for each other, because they needed a reason and not one of them could find a reason within themselves to do it. If they had to use their closest friends as a reason to survive, they would. A world without them was a world they did not want to live in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This was a ride, I have to admit. I would really love some feedback on this, what you liked, what you didn't. I enjoyed writing this, so feedback is very important to me so that I can write more and write different things (if I work up the courage to like .... put my tumblr here and ask for prompts). 
> 
> Anyway! If you're reading this, you're a star and I adore you. 
> 
> P.S. I will likely add more tags to this as time goes on and I write more (angst, fluff, smut, death) so I know what to promise y'all when you get into this! I don't want to put anything in yet that does not exist so! I also appreciate that this is currently listed as Explicit and is not _yet_ so just bare with me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This might be the shittiest thing ever, but we have each other and that’s enough. It might not always be enough, but for right now? It’s enough to be together.”
> 
> Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Stan was right.

Packing up each morning and heading out to a new place was exhausting. That was something they could all openly admit. They had no real end goal in sight, either. They just knew that they needed to keep moving because staying still was stupid. Getting comfortable could be detrimental. The last thing they wanted was to get comfortable and end up dead. The group had come across houses with as many as ten dead bodies, stacked on top of one another. They could never decide where it was the living or the dead that had been the cause. Richie was adamant that it was the dead, Mike was not so sure that the living were not to blame. Either way, it terrified Eddie and made him feel nauseous.

The straps of his backpack were a little too tight, he could picture the marks they would leave on his skin as he shifted and they twisted painfully. Duct tape was wrapped around his forearms and shins, paper and bits of cardboard slotted beneath it. Very early on, they had decided that they should take as much of a precaution as possible. Ben had been the one to suggest using old magazines and newspapers to pack under the tape. He had even demonstrated using Richie how hard it would be for anything to bite through it unless they had razor-sharp teeth (and he was fairly certain that people did not automatically develop sharp teeth after dying and then coming back to life).

They each had different necessities inside of their backpacks, two changes of clothes and a few personal items. Eddie’s most ridiculed personal item was an inhaler he had not needed in years. Richie only ridiculed him after learning that he had never actually had asthma, his mother was overbearing (insane, Richie countered) and wanted to keep her boy safe. He knew he didn’t need it and he never actually had, but it was like a safety blanket. He felt comforted to know that it was there, on the off chance he actually ever would need it. Even during the few panic attacks he had suffered during the first few weeks, he had not needed it. Then again, Richie had held his hands so tightly that he would never have been able to try and find it even if the thought had crossed his mind. 

As they walked down abandoned streets, Bill and Stan stayed at the back, keeping an eye out for anything or anyone that tried to take them from behind. Mike and Ben held up the front of the group, they were the tallest and by far the strongest of their group. If something could get through them, there was not much hope for the others. Richie, Eddie and Bev were in the middle, they watched out for their sides and took it in turns to stand on each side and in the middle. They had been walking for what Eddie would blindly guess was days if he hadn’t known any better and he felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs as he stepped wrong and smacked his head against Mike’s back.

“Ah, shit.”

“Eds! You good?”

Eddie was crouched on the floor by the time Mike and Ben had turned around and he held up his right hand, fist clenched and thumb sticking up to let them all know he was okay. It hurt like a bitch, though. Mike really was stronger than he looked, it felt like his muscles had muscles. Eyes were shut tight, as though any light would cause his head to throb harder and faster (which he was almost certain was true). He felt Bev move around him, heard her unzip his backpack and was forced forward as she shoved her hand inside.

“Oh, sorry.” She at least sounded apologetic.

“‘S fine. What’re you doing back there?”

She was silent for a long moment and Eddie would have thought she had left if it wasn’t for being able to feel her rooting around inside of his bag. The throbbing was just beginning to dull and he felt a hand on his chin, tilting his head up. At first, he thought it was Bev, studying the damage, but she was still elbow deep in his bag. He opened his eyes slowly, brow furrowed and was met with Richie’s face closer than he had expected.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Tozier?”

“Your face."

What’s wrong with it? It’s still prettier than yours.”

Bev laughed behind him and finally pulled her hand out of his bag and tapped something against his shoulder. Richie took it, a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for idiots, Kaspbrak. Here.”

His bag was zipped up and Richie was unscrewing the cap of the water bottle Bev had handed to him. Eddie took it and sipped from it, cocking an eyebrow and immediately regretting it. The look of anguish was enough for Richie to scold him under his breath before taking the bottle back. The cap was screwed back on and then Eddie felt cool plastic press against the burning skin of his forehead. Water sloshed inside of the bottle as Richie found the right positioning for it to give the right amount of pressure and (hopefully) relieve some of the discomfort that Eddie was feeling.

“Mike, you need to stop doing press-ups, my dude.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Richie. I’ll just stop keeping fit in case one of you isn’t paying attention and walks into me again.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you should do. That was easier than I thought.”

“Trashmouth?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“Get fucked.”

The lighthearted nature of the conversation was easy for Eddie to follow, even with his eyes closed again. Bill was laughing into his hand and he could imagine Stan shaking his head and opening his mouth to tell Richie to stop being an idiot. Richie really should have known better, because Mike could kick his ass in a heartbeat if he actually wanted to. They all wanted to kick Richie’s ass at some point, Eddie was sure of that much. It was Ben who ruined the conversation. It wasn’t actually his fault, of course, he was the only one actually paying attention to their surroundings.

“Guys.”

The conversation continued, Richie saying something about Mike sucking his dick and Mike laughing as he told Richie he’d do it in hell. Ben was talking too quietly for any of them to hear him, but Eddie had heard him. And because Eddie had heard him, he had heard the low groans coming from their right. His eyes snapped open and he ignored the pointed look that Richie gave him as he grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Guys.”

Ben spoke a little louder and there was more urgency in his voice this time and Eddie turned his head and almost choked on his spit. He had been expecting it from the wavering of Ben’s voice the first time he had spoken. He knew exactly what was coming their way when he heard the groaning. And yet, when he actually turned to see the small group of zombies moving toward them, it surprised him. Just when he thought that he was getting used to this new world, something that had become so mundane to them now, still scared the shit out of him.

Eddie stood up slowly and took a step back, pulling Richie with him. Without a word, Richie delicately unzipped Eddie’s bag and pushed the water bottle back inside, eyes never leaving the five, no six, zombies staggering towards them. The world seemed to be so silent then, the only sounds around them the groans coming from in front of them now they had all turned to face the threat and the zipper being pulled back and forth. Eddie watched as Bev reached behind her body to pull her knife from the holder on her belt (she had made it one night after growing tired of holding it in her hand all day). Out of his peripheral, Ben tightened his grip on his baseball bat and Mike stepped to the side, dragging the axe lightly across the floor.

They had a plan for everything. Sometimes it would not go exactly to plan, but they would carry it out as best they could. Like now, with Mike sidestepping as the axe dragged along the floor, gravel bouncing around the blade. The sound drew the attention of one of the zombies and Mike kept leading it away until it was far enough away from the group that he could strike. In a flash, the axe was raised, his hands far enough apart that he had the perfect grip. He swung the axe and the blade buried itself into the neck of the undead before him. The groaning continued and Mike pulled his arms back, blood squirting from the wound before he was swinging the axe again and again until he had decapitated the zombie.

To his right, Eddie could see Stan moving behind Bill to remove his own knife from the holder on his belt (that he had asked Bev politely to make for them all after seeing her own). Once he was further away, he pursed his lips and whistled, catching the attention of two of the zombies. He waited on bated breath as they staggered towards him, glancing over to Bill and watching as he followed behind the second, a gloved hand holding a crowbar. Fingers tightened around the metal and Bill inhaled deeply as he kicked against the zombie’s back. It fell to the floor with a sickening crack and Eddie could see it already moving to get up, despite something most definitely being broken from the wall. The one advantage of being undead, he supposed.

Bill leaned over the zombie and raised the crowbar, driving the straight edge into the back of its skull, twisting until he was sure it was down. He planted his foot against its back to pull the weapon out and, just for good measure, stomped on its head, the sound making Eddie want to gag. Stan stepped forward, getting into the first zombie’s space and lifted his hand to slam the blade of his knife into its temple. He had been nervous to do this at one time, too scared that he would miss and end up becoming lunch. Now, though, he was practically a professional. If there was ever a market for this kind of thing, Eddie was convinced he could sell classes on the perfect attack pose and the right way to move your arm.

Ben stepped to the left and used the bat to keep the zombies at bay as Beverly took down the first one. She had been watching Stan and Eddie could tell. Her stance was strikingly similar as she reached forward to press her taped palm against the zombie’s shoulder and stab her knife into its forehead. Eddie would never get used to the squelch when a blade entered through the skin and into the brain. He never wanted to, because who would he become if this was normal to him? All in all, they had rid themselves of four of the six zombies. Ben used the bat to push one of them back, watched as it stumbled backwards and then lifted the bat and swung it at the others head. Ben was physically a large boy, he had never truly grown out of the ‘baby fat’ stage, as his mother had called it. He was stronger now, though. A well-positioned swing of his bat could render a zombie out of commission if he really tried. Usually, it took him two or three swings until they were definitely out of action, but it was always impressive, regardless.

It took Eddie a beat to realise that Richie was no longer beside him and he was frantic for all of three seconds before he saw him appear beside Ben. Mike had handed his axe over to him, Richie taking it gratefully. Richie took a leaf out of both Ben and Bill’s book. He used the axe to keep the zombie away while he considered the options for killing it. Once he had settled on a suitable course of action, he allowed it to get closer, until he could lift his leg and kick it to the floor. Stepping over it, Richie positioned his hands on the axe, lifting it above his head. Exhaling steadily, he swung the axe down toward the zombie, the blade sticking into its head, splitting it in two between the eyes. It took him a few tries before he pulled the axe free and cleared his throat, handing it to Mike.

“Thanks, Mikey.”

“Anytime, Trashmouth."

Bill cleared his throat and Eddie turned his head to look at him. He watched as he took a piece of material from Stan to wipe the crowbar with.

“I think we should keep moving. We don’t know that others didn’t hear that.”

They were quick to fall back into their pattern, Ben and Mike taking the lead. Richie stood to Eddie’s right and Bev slipped to his left. Ben and Stan took up the rear. They were silent as they walked and Eddie wondered absently if the tension could have been cut with a knife. They all had one to hand if anybody felt like making the comment. It had to be said, they were a good group. They worked well together, but that was hardly a surprise. They always had, hadn’t they? Of course, things were a little different to when they were holding weekly study groups to discuss their lectures. Now, they were swapping zombie killing techniques and wondering how their lives had changed so quickly.

A few months ago, they would have been sitting around a table in the library, eating snacks and discussing coursework until they were told to leave for making too much noise. Who had ever heard of eating in a library anyway? Richie had adamantly refused to study without snacks and the others had eventually succumbed to his ways, agreeing that studying without food was unheard of. So, each week, they took ‘brain food’ and tried to see how far they would get into actual studying before they were booted out of the library. They ended up crammed into one of their dorm rooms or at a milkshake parlour in town. If they ended up at the latter, it took all of ten minutes before studying was over and they were discussing their days and what the rest of their week looked like. Not that a single one of their schedules was a secret, their lives so intermingled by the time they had known each other for a month.

The sun was beginning to set and Eddie finally felt his forehead relax, eyes no longer half closed as he walked. It was no wonder that he had walked straight into Mike earlier, he could hardly see. Something touched his hand and it took him a long moment to realise that it was Richie. He glanced down and he could see how Richie had slotted their hands together, fingers now entwined. Eddie had to force himself not to read into it. Friends held hands, that was definitely a thing in the world. Probably more so in this new world than the old one and they had all held hands before. It didn’t matter that his heart was pounding in his chest as he stood straight, peering between Mike and Ben’s bodies to see ahead of them. Sleeping arrangements aside, there was nothing between them. Any of them, as far as Eddie was aware. That didn’t mean he didn’t want there to be something between him and Richie.

Even the end of the world could not make Eddie realise that life was too fucking short to be afraid of your feelings. He figured there would always be something to be afraid of, they had zombies to fear now, but that didn’t mean you had to stop being scared of how you felt on the inside. About yourself or other people. If anything, Eddie wanted to keep his feelings to himself even more, because what if Richie freaked out and wanted to go out alone? What if he didn’t feel the same way and he felt he couldn’t be around him any longer? If he got himself killed because of how Eddie felt, well, he’d never be able to forgive himself. It was enough that he was refusing to acknowledge how he felt about his best friend, he didn’t need his premature death to make him completely fly off the handle.

“It’s starting to get dark, we should find somewhere to hole up for the night.”

Bev rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth and stopped walking. Eddie reached out to touch Mike’s shoulder so that he and Ben could stop, too. She was trying to see which building around them would be the most suitable to stay in the for the night. No matter how educated the guess was, there was always the risk it was being used by somebody else or it was overrun with zombies. They had had to outrun a herd more than once when trying to find somewhere to sleep. They all secretly held the hope that they would find a community eventually. Or they could start one. They were only children, though, weren’t they? It was enough that they were surviving on a daily basis, that was their only goal.

Perhaps one day, when the world was less… scary. They could try and start a real place for them to live. Somewhere that had walls and fences and people. Real people who wanted to live. They were getting by with the thought of survival. One day, that wouldn’t be enough. Eddie was painfully aware of that. Ben had talked about all the movies he had seen and he had made the group sit through a couple of them. Eddie knew that surviving was not actually about survival. It was about having something to move towards, something to live for. They needed a reason to _want_ to be alive. It would be easier for them to look for that inside of their group than in a community, he supposed.

“Bev, can you pick a place that looks good? We’re a bit exposed out here.”

She nodded at Stan’s words and pointed at one of the houses on the corner of the next street. Eddie could see why she had picked it over any of the others that they could see. It looked a lot sturdier than the house next to it, the door wide open and windows shattered. The house opposite had half of the fence missing and a gaping hole through what he guessed would be the kitchen. It might not have been the same on the inside, but cosmetically, it seemed perfect. They probably should have known better than to judge a book by its cover, especially by now.

They stayed close to one another as they made their way to the haven for the evening, stealing looks around them to ensure they would have no surprises on the way. Much like if they were ambushed, they had plans in place for scoping out places to camp. Two of them would stay outside, on the off chance that somebody or something from outside would try to surprise them. Two of them would stay downstairs and clear the floor and the remaining three would take the floor above. If they stayed in a building with more than two floors, the five of them would clear the floors together. There was safety in numbers, after all.

Stan and Eddie stayed outside, knives unsheathed and backs to one another for a better view of the street. He always felt anxious when he couldn’t see everyone and couldn’t be certain they were safe. It was always worse when they did something like this because God only knew what could be waiting for them inside. He hadn’t realised he was shaking until Stan shifted his weight from one leg to the other and pressed back into him in an attempt to steady him.

“Sorry."

"‘S fine. What’s wrong?"

Eddie’s grip on the handle of his knife tightened and he felt himself shrugging. He knew exactly what was wrong, but saying it out loud? It was more overwhelming than he had thought possible. He knew that Stan wouldn’t let it go, though, he’d want to make sure he was okay and that he was in the right headspace. That was the best and worst thing about Stan; he cared so fucking much.

“Just worried.”

“About them?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, me too. They’re okay, though. You know they are.” He paused and then, as an afterthought, spoke again. “We’re okay, too.”

“I know. I do know that. I just worry a lot. When I can’t see them. You never know what might be in there. Who could be waiting. What could be about to happen. It’s like, sometimes, I wish that I could see the future or something, so I knew if everything would be alright. I just want to know that we’re all going to survive until the next day. That we’ll get to see the sunrise as a group.”

Eddie didn’t know how to stop himself from spilling all of this out. He had spent so long keeping it inside and it was now all tumbling out before he could stop himself. It was fucking terrifying, actually, to tell Stan all of this. To be so vulnerable and open. He had always felt stupid when he felt this scared, to the point that he would shake and feel like vomiting. The only upside was this was word vomit, so at least there was nothing to clean up. But he couldn’t take any of these words back once they had been spoken. It was Stan, though. He understood, he was kind and caring and he listened and he offered help. Sure, it wasn’t always what you wanted to hear, but it was usually what you needed to hear. 

“I get it, Eddie. I really do. I hate not knowing what the day is going to hold and if we’re going to be okay. We could have all died earlier, you know. If that group had been bigger. If Ben hadn’t noticed. We could’ve died and it wouldn’t make a difference to anybody else in the world. That’s scary. This whole world is scary, Eddie. I think it’s good to be scared. Being scared gives you a reason to fight, you know?”

Stan stopped to allow his words to sink in and Eddie found himself nodding. God, he didn’t want to hear it but Stan was right. Being scared was good. Although, he wouldn’t admit that just yet. Stan wasn’t finished speaking, Eddie could tell, so he leaned back into him and made a soft humming noise to let Stan keep talking. He actually felt him clear his throat before he heard it and it made Eddie a little warm to have the confirmation that he was still there. It was stupid, he knew that because he could feel him pressed against his back, but not being able to see him put him on edge. 

“I think that being scared is a great motivator, Ed. Like… Like you can find reasons to do things if you’re scared. If you’re not feeling anything, you’ll give up a lot easier. I think you’d be mad not to be scared in this fucking hell we’re currently living in.”

“None of you seem scared.”

“But we are. We really fucking are, Eddie. I can promise you that much. The thing about being scared is that you find ways to hide it. Some people are amazing at hiding their fear. Like Mike, you know, he never seems scared. He always seems so cool and calm and like he has all his shit worked out. I know he’s scared. I know he’s terrified of this.”

“He is?”

“So scared, Eddie. Don’t tell him, obviously, because he might smack me with his axe. But he’s terrified of all of this. He’d be alone if we all died, just like I would be or you would be. We’re only human. We need people to survive, we need love and warmth and friends and to be happy. This might be the shittiest thing ever, but we have each other and that’s enough. It might not always be enough, but for right now? It’s enough to be together.”

Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Stan was right. He was right. It was easy to believe that when he didn’t have to see ruined buildings around them, rotting corpses along the street. He snapped his eyes open at the sound of footsteps towards them and he couldn’t work out where they were coming from. His entire body was tensed and Stan could feel it, the fingers of his empty hand reaching back to wrap around his wrist. It was something to ground him and fucking hell, Stan was good at that. Stan was good at knowing what they needed and wanted and it was overwhelming, the feeling of his touch. It was little, like when Richie had held his hand earlier, but it was enough to make him want to sob until his body could no longer handle it. 

“Breathe. It’s the others.”

Eddie wasn’t convinced he was right, not until he saw Bev and Richie coming out of the house. He trusted all six of them with his entire being, but sometimes, it didn’t feel real. Not until he could physically see things. It wasn’t real until Richie was standing in front of him and beaming down at him, his hand resting against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s all clear inside. Even found a place to sleep tonight.” 

Tears pricked at Eddie’s eyes and he wrapped an arm around Richie’s body and pressed his face into his chest. Emotion bubbled up inside of him and he was forcing the sobs to stay inside, afraid of what might happen if he started crying in the street like that. He felt Stan let go of his wrist and he wrapped both arms around Richie’s body. Hands raised to comb through Eddie’s knotted hair and he could feel the vibrations from Richie’s chest as he shushed Eddie. 

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

“He was a little worried about you guys.”

“Aw, Eds. We’re okay. Nothing waiting for us inside except mothballs and some out of date food.”

Eddie nodded against his chest and breathed in, trying his hardest to suck in long and deep breaths. The tears seemed to be at bay, though he wasn’t sure he felt safe enough to pull away. If Richie looked at him with worry, he might just burst into tears right there. Stan and Bev had gone back inside if the sounds of their footsteps were any indication and Richie smoothed his hands down his back slowly. The rubbing was more soothing than Richie had probably been intending. Eddie was exhausted and that wasn’t helping.

He pulled away, resting his chin against Richie’s chest and looking up at him. His fingers were linked behind Richie’s back and he smiled weakly up at him. His glasses were sitting wrong on his face and he was sure Richie wanted to fix them, but his hands kept moving along Eddie’s back to calm him. After a long moment, Eddie reached up and fixed them, setting them right once more. He detangled himself from Richie and stepped back, though there was little room between them.

"I think we should go inside.”

“Yeah. You looked like you were gonna fall asleep on me. And I’m not carrying your ass inside.”

Eddie scoffed and grabbed hold of Richie’s elbow and started to walk towards the house. The sooner they got inside, the sooner they could barricade the door and settle down for the night. Once they were safe inside, Eddie could truly relax. He would be able to actually breathe once they were safe. Well, as safe as they possibly could be in a house that they had no knowledge off only an hour earlier. Stan was right about one thing. It was enough just to be together, with people you loved and cared for more than anything. Eddie might have been terrified (and apparently so was everyone else) but if he had his friends, he could do this. He would have to do it. For them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was enjoyable! I know it was more graphic than the first chapter, but I wanted to get into the killing of zombies and I think it actually went pretty well? Let me know what you think! 
> 
> And all the thanks to my little proofreader <3


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